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Must I stop worrying and learn to love the Donald?

I think of them as before-coffee thoughts. Because they usually take place while I’m standing in front of the coffee-maker in my bare feet and nightie. You know the kind, thoughts that are none too bright and lacking in caffeine. Here are some examples:

Before-coffee thought: “If Donald Trump gets the Republican nomination you have to vote for him because of the Supreme Court. There is a 100% chance Hillary Clinton will appoint a leftist. It’s anybody’s guess what Trump will do. Anybody’s guess is better than 100% certain.”

After-coffee thought: “You live in Oregon, Nitwit. You could vote for Trump or write in Zoey Ives. Nobody cares. Clinton’s gonna win Oregon. The real question is will you support Trump if he gets the nomination. Hmmmmm?”

And that’s the real question. Which leads me to my most predominant before-coffee thought. It usually comes after nights like last night, when Trump has nabbed a few more primary states or another mind-boggling endorsement by someone who I used to respect. These thoughts are tinged with a faint accompaniment of Twilight Zone theme music, and images of Ingrid Bergman in Gaslight, sitting in a boudoir with her hands clenched to her ears or Slim Pickens whooping and hollering as he rides the bomb to hell in Dr. Strangelove.

Here’s an example:

“Maybe you’re morally tone-deaf, just don’t get it, hopelessly myopic, and unfairly biased. Maybe you need to just stop looking at what Trump does and says, and allow yourself to be led by wiser heads. After all, Sarah Palin, Phyllis Schlafly, Pam Bondi, Matt Drudge, Laura Ingraham, and (this one really hurts) Ben Carson, etc., etc., etc., assure you that he’s great! Maybe you need to just close your eyes and put yourself in their hands, like a trusting child. So the man’s a pig; don’t think about that. They don’t care, why should you? Stop fighting it. In fact, just stop thinking, altogether.”

To summarize, before coffee, I wonder if I need to just stop worrying, stop thinking, and learn to love the Donald. Especially if he gets the nomination.

It’s tempting. It would be easier to stop thinking. Because starting about three months ago, I get up every morning and make coffee in political La-la Land — a hostile environment which is incompatible with rational thought.

Heck, tomorrow, Ted Cruz may drop out and endorse Trump. I wouldn’t be surprised. And Congress could declare the Twilight Zone theme music the new La-la Land national anthem. Because nothing — I mean, nothing — surprises me In La-la Land.

I just took a break in writing this to drive Zoey to the groomer, and in the space of that mile and a half Laura Ingraham was on radio, soothingly encouraging Republicans to stop fighting it, and to accept Trump as the constructive nominee, because we need to unite to stop the Clintons and save the Supreme Court.

I suppose in political La-la Land, it would make perfect sense to push a serial misogynist as just the guy to stop the Clintons. And likewise that an admirer of Planned Parenthood can be relied upon to choose just the very best person to fill the void that Justice Scalia left on the Supreme Court.

And in political La-la Land I suppose it makes perfect sense to spend the last six years whining and moaning about betrayals by supposed elected saviors, and then stomp over the one guy who went to Washington, kept his promises, shook things up, and called out the sell-outs, in a demented stampede toward Trump — the epitome of the political chameleon.